P
ETRAM. A
UTIOHARD CUSTOM, HARD DANCE
S
OCIALO
RGANISATION, (U
N)D
IFFERENTIATION ANDN
OTIONS OFP
OWER IN AT
ABITEUEANC
OMMUNITY, S
OUTHERNK
IRIBATIAcademic Dissertation to be publicly discussed, by due permission of the Faculty of Social Sciences at the University of Helsinki, in Auditorium XII of the Main Building, April 17th, 2010, at 10 a.m.
P
ETRAM. A
UTIOHARD CUSTOM, HARD DANCE
S
OCIALO
RGANISATION, (U
N)D
IFFERENTIATION ANDN
OTIONS OFP
OWER IN AT
ABITEUEANC
OMMUNITY, S
OUTHERNK
IRIBATIResearch Series in Anthropology University of Helsinki
Academic Dissertation Research Series in Anthropology
University of Helsinki, Finland
Distributed by
Helsinki University Press P.O. Box 4 (Vuorikatu 3 A) 00014 University of Helsinki Finland
fax +358-9-7010 2374 http://www.yliopistopaino.fi
ISSN 1458-3186
ISBN 978-952-10-6150-9 (paperback) ISBN 978-952-10-6151-6 (PDF)
Helsinki University Print Helsinki 2010
To my daughter Oili Raakel Maria
C
ONTENTSList of illustrations vii
Notes on names, citations and typographical conventions viii
Acknowledgements ix
1.INTRODUCTION 1
Social Differentiation, Undifferentiation and Power in Southern Kiribati 3
Kiribati Introduced 11
The Kiribati Custom 15
Tabiteuea and Its Northern District 17
Tabiteuean Custom and Its Hardness 19
Kiribati Studied 21
Fieldwork and Research Questions 27
The Approach and Course of Chapters 29
2.THE ANCESTOR WITHOUT DESCENDANTS:DIFFERENTIATION AND NOTIONS OF POWER IN
TABITEUEA 33
Chiefs Are Forbidden? Myth, history, concept 33
Story of the Story 36
The Story of Kourabi (Karakin Kourabi) 42
Lines of power: The Karongoa clan 46
The apical ancestor: Tematawarebwe the first-born 50
Children of many fathers 52
The twofold ancestor: Akau the younger brother 53
Karongoa clan and power 56
Dualities and Transformation of Power 58
Power in the (Un)making 62
Making men, making chiefs 64
Making women 68
Binding but Not Unbinding: Remaining tabu 76
Power in his things 77
Power in the bones 80
Summary: Differentiation and its cut-off point 83
3.IINAKIS AND THEIR WORK:(UN)DIFFERENTIATION AND DECENTRALISATION
IN THE MEETINGHOUSE 88
On Meetinghouses (Maneabas) 88
Obaia the Feathered‟s Arrival and the Foundation of Atanikarawa
Meetinghouse 92
Kourabi‟s Arrival at Atanikarawa: The reconfiguration of power 96
Rivalling Arrivals 99
Iinakis, Land and Succession Temanoku/Buota 101
Upper-level and Lower-level Iinakis in Atanikarawa 106
„Work‟ as the Notion of Differentiation 109
Work for Kourabi 114
Moving the Elder (Tabekan te Unimwaane) 115
Placing the thatch (Katokarau) 117
Social Differentiation, Undifferentiation and the Decentralisation of power 121
4.PEOPLE OF OUR VILLAGE,WHICH IS BUOTA:THE VILLAGE COMMUNITY AND HOUSES
AS SOCIAL UNITS 125
A Village by the Road 125
Houses as Social Units 128
Household Composition and Mobility 129
The Village Prepares for a Visit 133
The Undifferentiation of Houses 137
Churches and Work Co-operatives 142
Village Community as a Social Unit and the Iinakis of the Villages 144
Junctures of Sameness and Difference 148
5.SITTING PROPERLY:SPACE, LANGUAGE AND THE BODY IN THE CONSTRUCTION OF IDEAL
COMMUNITY 153
Arranging and Attending Feasts: Social organisation of a bootaki 155
Elements of a Bootaki 159
Welcoming guests 159
Feeding guests 164
Delivering speeches 168
Giving and acknowledging gifts 170
Entertaining guests 173
Resting 174
Ending the feast and restoring independence 175
Constituting and Reaffirming the Community 176
Hierarchical organisation of space 176
Producing sameness and difference ideally and practice 178
“The independent man is independent”: Autonomy and its surrender 180
Tabu and the centre of the maneaba 182
Community 184
6.PEOPLE OF OUR DANCE:KNOWLEDGE, SOCIAL RELATIONS AND GENDER IN DANCE GROUPS 186 Style and Social Relations in Kiribati Dancing (mwaie): 186
Knowledge(s) as the Foundation of a Dance Group 189
Dancing and Everyday Life 192
The Teacher and His People 194
Contextualising the Account 196
Other Dance Teachers in Buota 204 198
Necessary Competition Between the Groups 199
Precedence, Unity and Continuity Within the Groups 202
Differentiation and the Emergence of Dance Groups 203
Group Composition and the Authority of Women 207
Displaying Undifferentiated Reproductive Power 210
Summary: The groups and the dancers 213
Group relations 214
Gender matters 215
7.DANCING IS ON!CONFLICTING LOYALTIES AND EQUIVOCAL AUTHORITY 218
The Coming Out: Dress-rehearsals (koroun) 220
Round One: Christmas dances 224
Round Two: Dancing at the ordination feast 228
Respite: Enjoyable dancing at the village feast 235
The Dance Prevails? Dance competition at Teabike College Cultural Day 240
Importance of Dancing 244
Social Configurations of Performance 245
When „People Talk‟: Community, fame and authority 250
8.CONCLUSION 255
Appendix: Karakin Kourabi – The Story of Kourabi 269
Glossary 274
References cited 277
Archival sources 297
Subject index 299
L
IST OF ILLUSTRATIONSMap 1. The Republic of Kiribati 10
Map 2. Gilbert Islands grouped according to their traditional polities. 12 Map 3. Tabiteuea atoll, showing villages and the division into administrative
districts. 18
Photograph 1. Unimwaanen Buota (Buota elders) in August 2000. 42
Figure 1. Legend for genealogies. 50
Genealogy 1. Kourabi‟s descent from Tematawarebwe. 51
Genealogy 2. Kourabi‟s descent from Akau. 54
Photograph 2. Atanikarawa meetinghouse (maneaba) in Buota village,
Tabiteuea Meang. 89
Genealogy 3. Founders of Atanikarawa meetinghouse. 95
Figure 2. The founders of the iinakis in Atanikarawa, their sitting places in the
maneaba and their principal kainga lands. 103
Figure 3. Floorplan of Atanikarawa maneaba showing the iinakis which have
resulted from the segmentation of the original five iinakis. 105 Photograph 3. Men of Tanimeang working on the roof of Atanikarawa
maneaba in Buota, placing the thatch. 119
Photograph 4. Men of Tanimaeao working on the roof of Atanikarawa
maneaba in Buota, placing the thatch. 119
Photograph 5 .Men of Tanimeang eating a meal, hosted by Tanimaeao. 119 Photograph 6 .Men of Tanimaeao eating a meal, hosted by Tanimeang. 119 Photograph 7. Food distributed among member households of Tanimaeao. 120 Photograph 8. Food distributed among member households of Tanimeang. 120 Chart. House occupancy in Buota between November 1999 and September
2000. 130
Figure 4. Division of Tabiteuea Meang villages into two tiba and the iinaki
positions of the villages in the maneaba. 146
Figure 5. Floor plan of a maneaba during a feast (bootaki) 158 Photograph 9. A singing group in a bootaki arranged by the Protestant
Women‟s Association (RAK), showing the customary coconut leaf bow
decoration. 163
Figure 6. Organisation of meetinghouse space in terms of „up‟ and „down‟. 177 Photograph 10. Kiribati dancing (mwaie); a dance type locally called kateitei. 188 Figure 7. Authority of women concerning dance group membership. 209 Table. Age and gender distribution of Buota dancers 1999-2000. 210
Photograph 11. In a koroun. 221
All photographs and figures by Petra Autio unless otherwise indicated.
N
OTES ON NAMES,
CITATIONS AND TYPOGRAPHICAL CONVENTIONS NamesThe names used in this work are, as a general rule, pseudonyms. The only exception is when I quote stories by story-tellers, thereby acknowledging those sources. Though pseudonyms are the usual custom in social scientific writing, I decided on using them only after some deliberation. I feel that in certain contexts it would probably have made more (Kiribati) sense to use real names, and I surmise some may find it strange or even be offended by not seeing their name in print. However, in other contexts I am less sure of people‟s personal preferences and, most importantly, in still further contexts I deem the protection of people‟s identities important. Therefore I opted for consistency in this regard, using pseudonyms throughout the work. I hope this resolution is understood by those concerned. The first time I use a name in a given context it is followed by an asterisk (*) to indicate that it is a pseudonym.
Citations
Unless otherwise indicated, quotes from people are from my written fieldnotes.
Quotations from transcribed audio and video tapes are marked using the following indicators:
Medium: At = Audiotape; Vt = Videotape
Date and location
Gender and age of the focal individual: M = Male, F = Female; age in numbers; „~‟
denotes approximate age
Thus for example “At 7A/180400/Buota, TabNorth/M~60” would refer to a recorded interview, story-telling session or event as follows: Audiotape 7A, recorded April 18, 2000 in Buota village, Tabiteuea North, focal person male, approximately 60 years of age.
All transcriptions and translations from Kiribati language are my own, if not otherwise specified.
Typographical conventions
Italics are used for non-English words and for emphasis, as well as in ethnographical vignettes which I have wanted to separate from the main flow of the text.
Underlining is used to draw the reader‟s attention to particular portion of a text which is being analysed.
„[?]‟ in a translation means that it is tentative, either because an original recording was obscure (when transcribed from a tape) or I have otherwise been unable to ascertain the meaning of a word or phrase.
A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTSDoing research requires material, intellectual and mental support from others, even as it feels a most lonesome endeavour. Furthermore, this dissertation has been long in the making, with unwanted breaks along the way, and often other people have had much more confidence in its completion than I have had. On the other hand, anthropological research is fundamentally predicated on people‟s willingness to help and to provide information about themselves and their worlds. I want to thank all the institutions and individuals who have made this research, and eventually its completion, possible.
Several establishments supported this research financially. The main part, including fieldwork, was funded by the Academy of Finland as part of the research project Departures: Constructing community in a diasporic world, led by Professor Jukka Siikala, in the years 1999–2002. Prior to that, the Sasakawa Young Leaders‟ Fellowship Fund of the University of Helsinki had provided for one year of graduate studies and preparation for fieldwork (1998-1999). At later stages, the writing was supported by The Finnish Cultural Foundation for one year, including the cost of important equipment (2003–2004), and the Emil Aaltonen Foundation for nine months in 2004–2005.
Finally, the Chancellor of the University of Helsinki provided a travelling grant to the Second European Colloquium on Micronesia in 2001, and a three-month finishing grant in 2005. All these are gratefully acknowledged.
I am sincerely grateful to my supervisors Professor Jukka Siikala and Professor Emeritus Clifford Sather, who have guided my work and made me feel that the material and questions I have dealt with are of interest and relevance. My supervisor and mentor Professor Jukka Siikala remained encouraging even in the face of vicissitudes and what I felt to be failures. With his store of anthropological and other scholarly knowledge, his comments and our discussions leading to analytical insights have been enlivening and a reason to pursue this work. Thank you. I also want to thank my other supervisor, Professor Emeritus Clifford Sather, who generously gave his time, reading and commenting on my text in various stages in a dedicated way. Louise Klemperer Sather, besides being a valuable support, likewise read and commented on numerous drafts, editing the language and helping me to improve the structure of the text.
I wish to express my gratitude to the pre-examiners of this dissertation, Professor Judith Huntsman and Dr. Nancy Pollock, who provided me with valuable critique which aided my attempts to clarify my thinking and writing.
Dr. Marie-Louise Karttunen did the final language editing of the dissertation with her usual proficiency and, as always, I enjoyed working with her.
The teachers, researchers and graduate students ‒ who also became colleagues during intermittent teaching assignments ‒ at the Unit of Social and Cultural Anthropology at the University of Helsinki and beyond have provided the intellectual environment of this
work. Professor Karen Armstrong‟s comments have always been astute and her advice down-to-earth. My first anthropology professor, Professor Emeritus Matti Sarmela, and Dr. Annamaria Viljanen, who is also my godmother, have each in their own way influenced my anthropological thinking.
My fellow graduate students and researchers, friends, have enriched my life with intellectual sparkle, wit, collegiality and comfort. I am especially grateful to Dr. Katja Uusihakala and Dr. Siru Aura, with whom I travelled the longest leg of this journey. Dr.
Perpetual Crentsil was a long-term office roommate of Siru‟s and mine, and our joint laughter and tears helped in difficult moments. I also want to thank Dr. Annika Teppo and Dr. Anna Maria Tapaninen for intellectually stimulating discussions.
In addition I wish to thank the many visitors to the Department who showed interest in my work and shared their thoughts with me, particularly Professor Robert Dentan, Professor Lina Fruzetti and Professor Peter Metcalf.
I am grateful to the Anthropology Department Secretary Arto Sarla for innumerable forms of practical assistance. When the Departures-project was underway, Kaarina Laitinen, then at the Department of Sociology, managed the project with efficiency and friendliness. Teaching assistant and „surnamesake‟ Anna Autio helped in practical matters when the need was the direst.
When it comes to fieldwork, it is impossible to name everyone one I want to thank. I am deeply grateful to Arebonto and Nei Toka Katangitang and their whole family, who took me into their home for the main part of the fieldwork in Tabiteuea Meang. Arebonto and Nei Toka took care of me and patiently taught me Kiribati katei (custom), tolerating my inadvertent gracelessness. Our shared sense of humour in the house was a blessing;
Baitau understood what it was like to be in a foreign place; Erena and Teera were my invaluable companions in everyday matters. Kam rabwa – e teimatoa uringamii irou.
Tekautu and Ukenia Teimaarane and their family generously hosted me in South Tarawa; Terenga Tekautu‟s initial help was crucial.
Another important group to thank are the people at the Kiribati Protestant Church (KPC) Headquarters in Antebuka, South Tarawa, who were the first to welcome me to Kiribati and offered a place to stay. Kaingateiti Maerere and Erite Awira were the first to befriend me and introduce me to Kiribati culture and sense of humour. Terikiai Maatata helped me in numerous ways, as did Rudolf and Ruth Oltmanns and Terauango – thank you. I also wish to thank Bureieta Karaiti and Bishop Iotua.
Before I got to Kiribati, Tarawa and to Buota in Tabiteuea North, however, there were several steps. I did a month of preliminary research in Hawaii in February 1999, with an internship with the East-West Center. Faculty and staff at the East-West Center, the Pacific Collection at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, as well as the Center for Pacific Studies and the Department of Anthropology at the University of Hawaii at Manoa were all extremely helpful. Significantly, in Hawaii I established my first contacts with I-
Kiribati people: Eritara and Tuturenga Bira, and their friends at the Brigham Young University, Hawaii. Thank you for your generosity.
I want to thank Johanna Perheentupa for hosting me during my stopovers in Australia on the way to Kiribati. In Fiji, I am indebted to Teweiariki Teaero, who helped me get started, and from whom I learned much about contemporary Kiribati society. He introduced me to Masirita Yee, who in turn put me in touch with my host-family-to-be in Kiribati and later, with her family, opened her home in Veisari to me. Dr. Kambati Uriam provided me with practical assistance and scholarly advice, both at the time and in later communications and, together with his family, hosted me as their iruwa (guest). Thank you all.
In South Tarawa, I am grateful to Cultural Officers Tamaetera Teaotai and Tekautu Ioane at the Cultural Division (at the time part of the Ministry of Environment and Social Development) as well as Bwere Eritaia, who had occupied the position earlier, for their help and insights, and to Reteete Nikuata in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I want to thank the personnel of the Kiribati National Archives, the different Departments of Kiribati Government as well as at the South Pacific Marine Services/Marine Training Centre, and Kiribati Fisherman‟s Services/Fisheries Training Center, for their assistance.
I was also given access to archives and kindly assisted by the Sisters and others at the Headquarters of the Kiribati Catholic Church in Teaoraereke – thank you. I thank the Peace Corps in Kiribati for the Kiribati language material.
In Tabiteuea North, in addition to my host family and their relatives, I offer my sincere gratitude to all kain Buota, the people of Buota village, and their representative body, Boowin Unimwaane, the Council of Elders. Many of the individual unimwaane also gave me their time relating their experiences or telling stories. Women accepted me in their midst while „working‟ for feasts, shared their experiences and gave me a view of life in Kiribati. Dance teachers and dancers helpfully shared their views. Thank you all.
While space does not permit naming all the individual Tabiteueans from Buota and other villages who aided my research, I want to thank Tokitebwa and Maretikuti Iakoba, Matannang Mouaata, Teriaa Taakoa, Tekiaben Bureua, Riino Tetaubuki, Teikarawa Tebaia, Teerau, Teikamwaane, Nakibae Tabokai and the late Bauro Teteki.
I want to thank the pastors and members of KPC and RAK (Reitan Ainen ni Kamatu, Protestant Women‟s Association) in Buota and the other villages of Tabiteuea; my closest contacts were Rev. Taabwi and Tebouriki from Buota and Rev. Berebere Katauea and the late Bishop Atariin from Utiroa. I am also thankful to the representatives of the Catholic Church in Tabiteuea, who likewise always received me generously. I am grateful to all the teachers and staff at Teabike College, for allowing me to observe the preparations for, and activities of, the Cultural Week, and for other assistance. My thanks also go to the Peace Corps volunteers at the time in Tabiteuea, Pat, Dawn, and Matt, for the supportive moments over cups of coffee.
Finally, I want to extend my gratitude to all kain Tabiteuea Meang, and ultimately all kai ni Kiribati, who made my fieldwork possible. Kam rabwa.
My friends in Finland have provided me both with encouragement and welcome distractions from the work. Special thanks are due to Satu Mäkinen, whose letters never failed to arrive when I was in the field. I am especially grateful to Ursa Hoikkala, whose own path took her to Micronesia before me, thus arousing my interest in the place, and whose friendship is a comfort and a joy in my life.
I have always been able to rely on my kith and kin for support, the extended network as well as my immediate family. To the latter, I owe the most: Firstly, my parents Kari and Pirkko Autio, as well as my brothers Kimmo and Simo Autio with their families. My parents have backed me throughout in both material and immaterial ways; in the final phases in particular my mother‟s practical help was invaluable. Secondly, I thank my grandmother Raili Pernaa, a further person of significance in my life. Thank you all for your unceasing love and support.
Thirdly, I want to express my gratitude to my spouse Tarmo Koskinen, who came into my life late in the process, and endured the last stages with me, often giving up his own interests so that I could complete this project. Finally, I am grateful to our daughter Raakel, born three weeks after this dissertation had been submitted for the pre- examination. She gave me the strength to finish.
Helsinki, March 2010
Petra Autio
1. INTRODUCTION
On my third day on the island of Tabiteuea, Southern Kiribati, my host brother accompanied me on a visit to the Island Council Office in a village about six kilometres south of Buota, the village I was staying in. We had been cycling on the main road close to the lagoon, and on the way back, I asked my host brother if he could take me the ocean side of the island. He appeared a little embarrassed because he had to refuse my request, and he explained something about it being tabu1, and about the custom, katei. I did not quite understand him, and he continued in English: “it is not my job to take you there”. Later his mother confirmed that it was indeed tabu. He could cycle with me n the other villages but not on the path leading to the ocean shore. Once the appropriate person had taken me, I would have no problem in going there.
* * *
Tetaake*2, a dance teacher, was explaining a verse of a dance song. He had told me that the protagonist of the song was a song or dance composer, an expert. “His words to people are that he will strike other experts with his dancing or singing. This man is more skilful than all the others in making songs and dances. This man is a giant, a striking giant. Nobody is even with him.”
* * *
The first mwaie (Kiribati dance event) I attended was a dress rehearsal for an upcoming important celebration. All the dancers from the village participated. After the dances had been performed, a heated argument ensued. I was not quite sure what it was about, though I picked out something about the number of claps in one of the dance songs. Certain that an argument like that was about „something more important‟, I enquired about it later. I was told that the disagreement was indeed about the number of claps, that one of the elders thought the dance should be performed in a slightly different way. I was not satisfied with the explanation;
something must be held back from me, I reckoned. Or could dancing be that important?
* * *
The day that the thatch of the Buota village meetinghouse was to be renewed, two women came to our house to borrow the meat mincer. Both had brought some cooked swamp taro (bwabwai) with them, and in turn they used the mincer to grind the bwabwai into a soft substance. Then, with the help of coconut cream they formed the
1 I will be using the Kiribati spelling „tabu‟ of this common Pacific concept instead of the English „taboo‟, except when using it as a verb („to taboo‟). When referring to the concept specifically in its Polynesian form, I will use the appropriate form (usually „tapu‟).
2An asterisk (*) after a name indicates that it is a pseudonym.
substance into a ball about ten centimetres in diameter; food called te manam. Once they had finished, my host-sister-in-law took the bicycle and hurried to take the mincer to a third woman, who had come the previous night to ask if she could borrow the appliance on this particular day.
A meat mincer is not an everyday item, but that morning it was needed in all the households belonging to the two clans (iinakis) that were to perform the restoration of the meetinghouse. Each participating household was to bring a prescribed amount of certain prescribed foods: the manam, two young coconuts, a loaf of bread and a pandanus dish called te roro. These foods were then exchanged between the clans and redistributed among their respective households. As a result, the representatives for each household took home a manam ball, two young coconuts, a loaf of bread and some roro wrapped in the leaves of an uri-tree.
The four passages above, constructed from my notes taken during fieldwork in the Central Pacific state of Kiribati, each say something about the importance of being different from, or being the same as, others. The first passage refers to the fact that in Buota, people are differentiated with regard to certain tasks; taking me to the ocean shore was not up to my host brother. The second concerns a context in which people – seemingly unambiguously – strive to differentiate themselves from others: dance songs and dancing. The third however, while also dealing with dancing, points to the importance of the value of unity, of everyone being the same, through an incident where this value was threatened. The last excerpt introduces a central framework of practice in Kiribati society: the meetinghouse, maneaba3, which will feature centrally in this dissertation. The episode itself describes the (from a Western common-sense, utilitarian point of view irrational) exchange of identical objects, which illustrates the need for people to be the same.
In all societies there are ways and contexts in which people are socially and culturally differentiated, and ways and contexts in which they are not. Yet in southern Kiribati, the
3 The orthography of Kiribati language is not well-established, and the word for meetinghouse also appears in the forms mwaneaba and (rarely) m‟aneaba. The differences in the Catholic (C), Protestant (P) and Government (G) orthographies, as they are called, mainly concern the spelling of [a] sound as in pronounced in a „mark‟, after certain consonants (b, m) and the use (or not) of double vowels to indicate relative vowel length, though in practice there is inconsistency within the variants as well. The alternative spellings are „bwa-‟/„mwa-‟ (G), „b‟a-
‟/„m‟a-‟ (P) or „ba-‟/„ma-‟ (C); [a] sound as in „man‟ is spelled as „a‟ in all three variants. Old Protestant orthography uses „ñ‟ for the nasal consonant [ŋ, ng], but this is fairly obsolete.
In this work I retain the original spelling in direct quotations and otherwise I aim to follow the Government orthography, but make an exception with the word for the meetinghouse, which should in fact be mwaneaba (G).
However, I employ the spelling maneaba, because it is a classic topic in the literature, the overwhelming majority of which uses the form maneaba (see e.g. Tabokai 1993 who otherwise employs G).
co-existence of two opposing ideals – of being different or the same – seems particularly pronounced, not least because both are often present in the same institution or framework of practice. As I got to know the community, certain contradictions I encountered were intriguing enough to redirect my study from the original research question (see below). For, on the island of Tabiteuea, one finds a powerful chief representing a society where chiefs are forbidden, hierarchically organised clans in a democratic meetinghouse institution, and intense competition between dancers who are supposed to be „even‟.
S
OCIALD
IFFERENTIATION, U
NDIFFERENTIATION ANDP
OWER INS
OUTHERNK
IRIBATI This is a study about social differentiation and undifferentiation as seen through the meetinghouse (maneaba) institution and dancing (mwaie) in the village of Buota, originally called Temanoku4, which is located on the island of Tabiteuea in southern Kiribati, Micronesia. Based on data gathered during fieldwork in Kiribati 1999–2000, I will examine the ways in which people are presupposed, made or aspire to be different from others, and ways in which they are presupposed, made or aspire to be the same as others. I will approach the issue particularly with reference to local notions of power. I see the ideas and practices producing sameness and difference being guided by the opposing principles of differentiation and undifferentiation.The idea of social differentiation in general is a common denominator in divergent discussions about rank, hierarchy, stratification, inequality, authority, dominance- subordination and so on. The opposite kinds of socio-cultural formations have varyingly been called egalitarian/egalitarianism or equal/equality. It has been argued that such formations have too often been taken for granted as the original natural condition of mankind, and therefore requiring no further explanation (Flanagan 1989, 245, 261). In addition, „egalitarian‟, „equal‟ and the like are highly problematic terms because of their links with individualism and other ideological connotations within common Western thought, which considers the original state of humankind forever lost and relegates any
4 The original name of this village was Temanoku, and the name of its central meetinghouse was Atanikarawa („the head [i.e. chief] of heaven‟). The village had a special relationship to a village on the island of Nonouti, called Buota, whose maneaba was called Te Ririere. The accounts vary somewhat, but at some point the villages exchanged names and the names of the meetinghouses. One account suggests that this was to commemorate the help the Tabiteuea village received from the village Nonouti at the time of a famine in the beginning of the 20th century (Geddes 1977, 378), or it might have been to commemorate or strengthen the tie between the two villages.
The official name of the Tabiteuean village now is Buota and the name is used in most ordinary contexts, though the name Temanoku comes up in some stories or songs. By contrast, both „Atanikarawa‟ and „Te Ririere‟ are still in everyday use for the central maneaba.
claim to the contrary to the role of false consciousness (see Robbins 1994). Compared to hierarchies, egalitarian social forms and the ideas that structure them used to receive less serious attention (Sather 1996, 70; Flanagan 1989, 245-246), but lately a number studies have shown that egalitarianism is not a pre-cultural given but something that is actively constructed (see e.g. Robbins 1994; Sather 1996; Woodburn 1982). The case of Tabiteuea Meang, the northern district of Tabiteuea, to be discussed in this study, likewise indicates that „being the same‟ is not mere absence of differentiation.
With the alternative concept of undifferentiation I want to develop the idea of culturally constructed non-hierarchical social forms. The case of Tabiteuea Meang indicates not only that „being the same‟ is not just lack of differentiation but that it is also an active practice. The way I use this term, undifferentiation is (1) is always in terms of something, (2) is assigned meaning (and value) and (3) can, though not always, be an active practice, in which case it (4) entails a recognition of pre-existing difference. The last point underlines the difference between the concept of undifferentiation and the concept of equality in the way Louis Dumont (1986, 266) defines the latter as incommensurable with the recognition of difference. Occasionally I use the more commonsense term „sameness‟ to describe an undifferentiated state, though the word suggests identity, rather than the conditional identification which seems to be at stake (see Robbins 1994, 58 and below; cf. Dumont 1986, 266).
In line with most contemporary research, it is presumed in this dissertation that forms of differentiation and undifferentiation co-exist in all societies (see e.g. Helliwell 1995;
Flanagan 1989). The juxtaposition of differentiation and undifferentiation brings out the matter of perspective: two elements can be „the same‟ in terms of one thing and
„different‟ in terms of another, or on different levels of abstractness or inclusiveness. (In other words, I do not use the words presuming one aspect to define the totality of an element – see Robbins 1994, 58–59.) Thus differentiation and undifferentiation are always matters of the meaning given to the elements compared, rather than objective conditions.5
5 This also points to the need to distinguish between ideologies and practices (Flanagan 1989, 248), to separate culturally constructed notions from objective conditions or people‟s perceptions of the latter (Sather 1996, 71;
Woodburn 1982, 431–432). In particular, the terms „egalitarian‟, „equal‟ and the like have lacked precise definition. James Flanagan (1989, 248) distinguishes the „equality of opportunity‟ from „equality of outcome‟ (see also Robbins 1994, 32–33). James Woodburn (1982, 431–432) reserves the term „egalitarian‟ to refer to a conscious ideology. Building on Woodburn, Clifford Sather (1996, 71) specifies that „egality‟ and the concomitant adjective attribute „egalitarian‟, which refer to a culturally constructed notion, is different from equality, which refers to “objective conditions of existence”. Likewise, Sather distinguishes between hierarchy and inequality as a complex of ideas and ideals versus material conditions interpreted as unequal in some respect (Sather (1996, 71–
72).
Making use of existing analyses of both hierarchical and egalitarian structures, it is possible speak of both social and cultural differentiation and undifferentiation (cf. Jolly 1994; Flanagan 1989, 248). There are many possible units and variables of differentiation: the difference between whom or what, for example, or the difference in terms of what. The differentiation considered is usually between people – as individuals, groups or categories – but it may also refer to relationships between cultural categories or concepts, as in Louis Dumont‟s (1998 [1966], 1986) seminal work, in which the concept of hierarchy comes to have a particular meaning (see below). From another angle, one can consider difference in terms of age, gender, wealth, prestige, value and power in its many forms and definitions, to name but a few.
For the purposes of this work, it is useful to distinguish two kinds of difference.6 Firstly, there is the kind that has, at least since Lévi-Strauss, assumed to be a universal cultural structure, though its nature has been debated: the binary opposition or dual symbolic categorization, where the two terms are understood in relation to each other;
oppositions such as man:woman or pure:impure. Their relationship is commonly perceived as complementary or as hierarchically complementary. Secondly, there are differences which are not perceived, in a given ethnographic context, as binary or complementary, like differences in appearance or wealth. What the significant differences are in each case are culturally determined, as are the ways value is attached to one side of a pair, or to the difference as such. Some of the differentially valued distinctions may then become the bases for differentiated social structures.
The analysis of social orders based on binary oppositions or dual categorisations has been linked to the way in which the relationship between the two terms of such a pair has been understood. Louis Dumont and his followers posit a relationship of hierarchical opposition between the paired elements: the opposed elements are differentially valued, and the more valued pole encompasses its contrary, to which it stands as a whole stands to its part. On one level the terms are opposed, on another, they form a whole. The less valued, encompassed pole can become higher but only on a lower level of ideology7 (Dumont 1998 [1966], 239–245; 1986, 46, 119, 227–228, passim; see Parkin 2003 for the development of this idea in Dumontian thought). While Dumont in his controversial applications of the concept (Dumont 1998 [1966], 1986) argued for the unavoidability of
6 The philosophical distinctions between different logical types of difference, such as Dumont (1971, 70, 77–78) makes between different kinds of opposition (complementaries, contradictories and contraries), or gradable / ungradable distinctions (Parkin 2003, 112–113) are beyond the scope of this discussion. For a review of anthropological understandings of binary opposition, dual symbolic classification and hierarchical opposition, see Robert Parkin (2003, Ch. 2–3).
7 In Dumont‟s (1986) conception, ideology is the total configuration of representations, ideas and values common in a particular society.
hierarchy in the above sense, the hierarchical opposition can also be understood on an analytical level as one type of logical structure, a particular kind of relationship between the elements of an opposition, without necessarily claiming its universality (see Parkin 2003, 217).
On a more ethnographic level, some of the critical, if also endorsing, comments on Dumont concerning the nature and use of binary oppositions, have been based on Austronesian ethnography (see Jolly & Mosko 1994; Toren 1994). Whereas Dumont (1998 [1966]), in his study of the extremely hierarchical Indian caste system, presented an all-encompassing and systematic hierarchy, ultimately guided by one supreme value, James Fox (1990, 1994) and Margaret Jolly (1994), for example, have asserted that social structures can be informed by multiple notions of, and competing claims to, value.
James Fox (1994, 1990) prefers the notion of „precedence‟ to „hierarchy‟ when it comes to the study of Austronesian societies. He demonstrates an order or orders emerging from a plurality of categorical oppositions, in which value does not have to be permanently fixed to either pole. The oppositions are culturally given linguistic categories, which can be complementary and asymmetric and function recursively in many contexts or levels of signification (1994, 87, 98; cf. Jolly 1994). According to Fox (1994), in Austronesian societies the assignment of value, or rather, mark/markedness, in an opposition can be strategically used and contested to make claims to hierarchy – or contribute to its dismantling.8
Furthermore, Glenn Petersen (1993), in his discussion of politics in Pohnpei, Micronesia, shows how the sets of values and practices that constitute „hierarchy‟ and
„equality‟ are not necessarily internally consistent. Aspects of both values and political practices can overlap and contradict and are dependent on the context (Petersen 1993, 337–338). By implication, in order to understand social differentiation it is necessary to examine many contexts or „frames‟ of action (Bateson 2000 [1972]). On the other hand, the ways in which values and practices are defined and combined always develop in particular cultural contexts and historical circumstances and contacts (Poyer 1993). The existence of an ultimate value seems to remain a matter of empirical investigation in each society.
Jolly (1994) reminds that that values are always enunciated and contested by people in particular social positions, and therefore cultural-ideological and the socio-political structures cannot be kept strictly separate (cf. Dumont 1998 [1966], 66-75). Such a
8 After this dissertation had been submitted for pre-examination, a whole collection of essays discussing the concept of precedence in the Austronesian context was published (Vischer 2009). Precedence: Social Differentiation in the Austronesian World is of obvious relevance to this work but at that point it was no longer possible to properly engage its papers in discussion.
situation might arise, for example, in a contestation over chieftainship, where potential successors each assert their right to leadership by invoking different cultural values (cf.
Fox 1994, 98-99).
These analyses, then, build on the idea that social differentiation is structured by cultural values and ideas; in this study it is assumed that undifferentiation is equally so.
Theoretically, one can perceive both vertical and horizontal differentiation, but it could be argued (as Dumont would) that to assign a meaning is to assign a value, and therefore differential meanings construct vertical differentiation (see also Parkin 2003, 218). The reverse condition of undifferentiation can be seen as the assignment of the same meaning, i.e. value. Therefore it becomes evident that non-hierarchical social forms also
“result from the consideration of value” (cf. Dumont 1986, 279).
In the regional context of Oceania, particularly Polynesia, social differentiation has been intimately linked with local notions of power and authority. In broad terms the organisation of many traditional Polynesian societies was based on the idea of divine power (mana – life force, efficacy, potency, fecundity; see e.g. Firth 1940; Shore 1989), which is transmitted from the gods to the people in order to reproduce their society. The amount of power decreases with distance from the source of power (gods), forming an order of precedence from the gods to the divine king, to lesser chiefs or nobility and finally, to commoners (cf. Hocart 1936). The divine power from „the outside‟ or „above‟
alone, however, was not enough for legitimate authority, which also depended on power from „the inside‟ or „below‟, implying the need for certain personal abilities or political skills (Sahlins 1987; Valeri 1985a; Marcus 1989).9
While a great number of these studies have been historical, it has been argued that as long as one takes into account the possibly radical changes that have occurred in content, these notions continue to have significance and relevance when trying to understand contemporary societies and cultures (Shore 1989, 166–168; Marcus 1989, 206–207).
Scholars of the region have also written on the construction of social differentiation in contemporary Pacific societies, where the interplay of the same cosmological ideas (like mana), though sometimes transformed or in new contexts, is evident (see e.g. Duranti 1992; Toren 1990, 1995a).
On the other hand, the undifferentiated aspects of social organisation have also been highlighted in some cases. Fox example, Christina Toren‟s work (1990) shows how relations of hierarchy and of egalitarian „balanced reciprocity‟ interact in Fiji, and argues that in Dumontian terms, neither value can ultimately encompass the other (Toren 1994). In particular, some small atoll societies, such as in Tokelau (e.g. Huntsman &
9 This kind of duality is connected (but not entirely analogous) to the distinction between ritual/non-coercive and political/coercive power (e.g. Dumont 1998 [1966], 66–79; Clastres 1989; Hocart 1936; see below).
Hooper 1996) and in Tuvalu (e.g., Besnier 1996; A. Chambers‟ contribution on Nanumea in Geddes et al. 1982; K. Chambers 1984, 116, 233) in Polynesia or Sapwuahfik (P0yer 1993) in Micronesia, are described as decidedly egalitarian, while simultaneously combined with the existence of chiefs or hierarchical aspects of social organisation.
In discussions of stratification, Micronesia10 has most often been likened to Polynesia (Riesenberg 1968, 111; Keating 2000, 306 fn. 14), and Kiribati society and culture are commonly recognised as having had strong Polynesian influence, not the least because of historical connections with Samoa (though emphasising these connections should also be understood as part of indigenous ideology; see Ch. 2). When discussing Tabiteuea, the relatively egalitarian atoll societies exhibit certain important similarities, whereas many of the other comparative Polynesian as well as Micronesian examples become useful in an inverse way.
Thus, the purpose of this study is to throw light on a conspicuous absence of chiefs, as well the presence of one particular chief. Kiribati culture shares with other Oceanic cultures the idea of increasing differentiation from a point of origin, forming an order of precedence (Fox 1990, 2006a [1995]) with its connection to divinely-derived power. Yet in Southern Kiribati in particular these notions are accompanied by other ideas and take a specific form which makes it an interesting case in the Pacific comparative perspective.
One of the crucial points to emerge is the idea that a differentiated order being proportional to the amount of power does not mean that undifferentiation would in turn indicate an absence of power or authority.
Social scientific discussions about power and authority use these and related concepts in a variety of ways. Though terms vary, a distinction is commonly made between ritual and political power – implying spiritual and temporal authority respectively (e.g.
Dumont 1998 [1966], 66–79) – and non-coercive and coercive power (Clastres 1989);
A.M. Hocart‟s (1936) corresponding distinction is between „precedence‟ and „authority‟.
Notably, political power can be used interchangeably with „domination‟, „coercion‟ or
10 The division of Oceania into Polynesia, Melanesia and Micronesia on a cultural basis, with concomitant generalisations about social differentiation, have long been recognised as problematic (Keating 2000, 306) but the discussions are too extensive to be reviewed here. Debates have particularly concerned the Polynesia/Melanesia divide, with its initial ideal-typing of the chiefly societies of the former and the „big men‟ societies of the latter (Sahlins 1970 [1963]), and its empirical critiques (e.g., Douglas 1979; Keesing 1985; Godelier 1986; Godelier &
Strathern 1991) as well as historical and ideological considerations (N. Thomas 1989; Tcherkézoff 2003). In all this, Micronesia has mainly remained something of an aside, being probably the smallest “nonentity” (Hanlon 1989) of the three (but see Hanlon 1989; Rainbird 2003; Tcherkézoff 2003, 179–181). However, with criticisms and qualifications taken into account, the division may still function as a convenient shorthand description of certain societal and cultural traits, with the main interest lying now in the diversity within regions as well as the complexities of differentiation within single societies. In this work, for example, useful parallels will be also be drawn with certain Melanesian societies, despite the fact that the „big men‟ logic is alien, even antithetical to Kiribati culture.
„subordination‟. In this work I mainly confine the discussion to the former, ritual or non- coercive kind of power, emphasising local notions concerning symbolic reproductive power. Towards the end of this work, however, I bring in some discussion of authority, which I have chosen to consider mostly as it is played out in a particular social arena, dancing, and as defined in a way that fits local conceptions.
One way to conceptualise authority is to see it as the right to speak (e.g. Du Bois 1986).
The relevance of this definition in the Kiribati context becomes evident from descriptions of the meetinghouse (maneaba) institution (see e.g. Geddes 1977, 379-380;
Latouche 1984, Ch. 4; H.E. Maude 1991a [1963]; Tabokai 1993). In the present work, speaking is also understood metaphorically to include, for example, composing and performing songs and, further, to include other forms of expression in addition to words.
I also make use of the insight that in addition to having – in most cases – sense or meaning, words (or other signifying action [cf. Farnell 1994, 1996]) have social consequences (Austin 1975 [1955]). These are however always contingent on the social relationships of the particular speech event (cf. Du Bois 1986).
This study aspires to participate in the ongoing discussion in political anthropology about forms of social differentiation and the ways in which these are informed by cultural values. On the other hand, with my particular foci – the meetinghouse institution and dancing – I hope this study makes a contribution to comparative regional discussions about socio-political structures and notions of power in Oceania. In dealing with the absence of chiefs, this study aims to complement the body of existing literature, much of which concentrates on chiefly societies. Finally, the examination of dancing both as part of the socio-political organisation and as a site of power, connects this work not only to Oceanic studies but also to general anthropological discussions of dancing.
Map 1. The Republic of Kiribati in the Central Pacific (Van Trease 1993a, xix).
R EP UB LIC O F K IR IB AT I
K
IRIBATII
NTRODUCEDKiribati is a Central Pacific state situated on the Equator between 3° north and 12° south latitudes and 168° east and 153° west longitudes, in the region commonly known as Micronesia. Kiribati consists of three island groups: Gilbert, Phoenix and Line Islands, and a solitary raised coral island, Banaba (see Map 1). The land area – 810.5 km2 – of the altogether 33 atolls is spread over a vast ocean area corresponding to roughly one third of the United States. Apart from Banaba, the islands are low-lying coral atolls and table reef islands, with a thin, infertile top soil and volatile fresh water supplies (a fresh water lens under the island). Rainfall varies both regionally and seasonally, being the greatest in the northern Gilbert Islands and the Lines, and the smallest in the southern Gilberts and the Phoenix Islands, which are prone to periodic droughts (e.g. F. Thomas 2003, 3;
Catala 1957, 2-3; Sachet 1957).
Before Independence in 1979, Kiribati was part of the British Colony of the Gilbert and Ellice Islands (for the area‟s colonial history see Macdonald 1982; Van Trease 1993b).11 Kiribati people are referred to as “I-Kiribati” and the language as “Kiribati”, though the colonial “Gilbertese” is still sometimes used for both the people and the language (see e.g. Uriam 1995). A third term is the pre-colonial indigenous name of the Gilbert Islands,
“Tungaru”, which some writers have preferred when discussing society and culture (see e.g. Latouche 1984; Brewis 1996). In this work I have opted for “Kiribati” as the usual term for the society, culture as well as language, because in my experience it is in line with the common current usage in Kiribati, even though it is anachronistic in some contexts. „Gilbertese‟ will be used occasionally, either when citing a source using that designation, or where it is relevant to emphasise either the location in the Gilbert Islands or the colonial context.
The Kiribati language belongs to the Austronesian language group, the Micronesian subgroup. Vocabulary shows important Polynesian influence, though the greatest lexical similarity is with Pohnpeian (Gordon 2005).
The current (2009) population in Kiribati is likely to be around 100,000. The Census taken just after fieldwork for this study was conducted in 2000 gave the population as 84,500 (Kiribati 2000 Census), and the Kiribati Census 2005 came up with 92,500, but some under-enumeration is likely (see Demmke et al. 1998, 3-5) and population growth
11 The Ellice Islands with their Polynesian population broke off in 1978 to become the state of Tuvalu. Tuvaluans used the indigenous name of the Ellice Island group for the state. Kiribati opted not to use Tungaru, the pre- colonial indigenous name of the Gilbert Islands, since a new one, Kiribati (pronounced „Kiribass‟, a the local rendering of „Gilbert‟), was felt to better represent the whole nation state, which came to include the Phoenix and Line Islands as well.
has been rapid. The majority of the country‟s population is living in the Gilbert Islands chain (see Map 2), and altogether there are people living on 21 of the islands.
NORTHERN/CENTRAL GROUP
SOUTHERN GROUP CENTRAL GROUP
NORTHERN GROUP
Map 2. Gilbert Islands grouped according to their traditional polities. Reproduced with modifications from the map in Van Trease (1993b, 4).
G ILBERT I SLANDS
The Gilbert Islands are narrow chain crossing the equator in a northwest-southeast direction. The people living on three of the northern Line Islands and one Phoenix Island originate from the Gilberts.12 The population of ca. 8,900 (Kiribati 2005 Census, 3) in the Line group has resulted from plantation labour in the early and mid-20th century and resettlement since the 1980s (Langston 1993). There was an unsuccessful attempt to resettle the Phoenix Islands in the 1930s and a subsequent relocation of the settlers to the Solomon Islands (see H.E. Maude 1937, 1952; Knudson 1964, 1977); nowadays there are only a handful of people on Kanton, mainly to keep up the infrastructure.
Banaba (Ocean Island) is considered somewhat distinct from the rest of Kiribati, its history shaped by eight decades (1900-1980) of phosphate mining, which has left the island a desolate rock of stone pillars, with a population of ca. 300 (Kiribati 2005 Census, 3). Most indigenous Banabans were resettled to Rabi Island in Fiji after the Second World War, after the in-all-but-name dispossession of their land, which was also being irretrievably eroded by the mining (Macdonald 1982, 94–111; on relocation, see Silverman 1962). Banabans are connected to Kiribati by kinship, linguistic and cultural ties, but tend to emphasise their cultural and political distinctiveness.13 Interestingly, a recent link between Banabans and other I-Kiribati is the import of the traditional song composition knowledge (kainikamaen) from the Gilbert Islands to the Banabans on Rabi, now also used for political ends within Fiji (Kempf 2003).
One factor strongly characterising Kiribati, common throughout the Pacific, is the contrast between the capital region, the southern half of Tarawa island, and the so-called outer islands. Due to internal migration induced by far greater possibilities of wage work, there are about 40,000 inhabitants in South Tarawa (Tarawa Teinainano) (Kiribati 2005 Census, ix). In the main, however, the population of most of the outer islands has remained fairly stable over the past 20 years, despite the nation‟s high birth- rate (though the Total Fertility Rate has dropped from 4.5 births per woman in 1995 to 3.5 in 2004–2005 [Kiribati 2005 Census, 15]), so Tarawa has absorbed most of the population growth.14
12 According to archaeological and linguistic evidence, Teraina and Tabuaeran in the Line chain were inhabited several centuries ago by Polynesians of unknown origin (Langston 1993, 203–206).
13 The cultural similarities and differences are a contentious and a politicised issue; some Banabans would like Banaba to become independent of Kiribati. For a classic account of traditional Banaban social organisation, see H.C. Maude & H.E. Maude 1932; for a present-day (and partly indigenous) perspective see King & Sigrah 2004, Sigrah & King 2004.
14 The Census taken in 2005, however, showed some interesting demographic developments in the 21st century.
Between 2000–2005 there was a marked increase of population in the Line Islands, particularly Kiritimati and Tabuaeran, due to revived migration from the Gilbert Islands (Kiribati 2005 Census, 27). Proportionally speaking, it was Kiritimati Island which had the highest population growth rate (8.0%); South Tarawa‟s growth rate slowed down markedly from the period 1995-2000 (from 5.2 to 1.9%). While the population growth in Kiritimati (8.0%)
Kiribati economy is based on both material and non-material resources. Everyday livelihood outside South Tarawa builds on subsistence agriculture and fishing; the main exports (and sources of cash income outside Tarawa) are copra, fish and seaweed. On the other hand, Kiribati receives proceeds from granting fishing licences to foreign vessels in Kiribati waters, development aid, and dividends from the trust set up in 1956 for royalties from Banaba phosphate mining15 (Kiribati National Statistics Office n.d.a, Economic statistics). Overseas migration rates from Kiribati to the developed Pacific rim countries are minimal, but around the turn of the Millennium, there were close to 1,400 seamen and fishermen working on mainly German and Japanese vessels, with their remittances making a significant contribution to the economy despite their relatively small number (Borovnik 2006).16
Kiribati is a predominantly Christian nation. Protestant Christianity was introduced first by the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions in the 1850s, and two decades later by the London Missionary Society, largely with Samoan pastors (Etekiera 1979; Macdonald 1982, Ch. 3). The Catholic Order of the Sacred Heart from France arrived in the late 1880s, though some Gilbertese converts, who had worked as indentured labourers elsewhere in the Pacific and returned home, had already prepared the ground (Etekiera 1979; Macdonald 1982, Ch. 3; Sabatier 1977 [1939], Part II). Today too, the main denominations are Roman Catholic (55%) and Protestant (36%).17 The Mormons, the Baha‟i, Seventh Day Adventists, Pentecostals and other tiny groups comprise the rest. Historically, the relationship between Catholic and Protestant
and Tabuaeran (7.4%) makes sense in the light of wage-work opportunities (in e.g. tourism) in the former, and the availability of relatively good (compared to the Gilbert Islands) farming land in the latter, Makin – one of the outer Gilbert Islands – with the growth rate of 6.9% is something of a statistical curiosity (3).
15The Revenue Equalisation Reserve Fund (see Asian Development Bank 1998, 50-54). That its proceeds are controlled by the Kiribati Government is a matter of contention with the Banabans.
16 According to Asian Development Bank (2002, 242 [Table A25]), almost one third of all households in Kiribati received remittances from seafarers; Borovnik (2006, 157) estimates that remittances benefit 17% of the population. Based on the information I got from the South Pacific Marine Services and Kiribati Fisheries Services (who contract the seamen to merchant and fishing vessels respectively), in 1998 there were 1,400 Kiribati seamen working on German and Japanese ships, who sent home about 9.4 million AU$ in remittances, but Maria Borovnik‟s (2006, 153–154) more detailed study shows that with informal remittances included the figure is likely to approach 13 million AU$, which still excludes the value of commodities brought home by seamen. In the same year (1998) the value of Gross Domestic Product was 62 million AU$ (constant prices) (Kiribati National Statistics Office n.d.b).
Very recently (2008) it has been reported in the news that the number of Kiribati seamen on German ships has dropped drastically, from a peak of nearly 2,000 marine employees to around 900. Problems with alcohol abuse, health issues and incidents of Kiribati seamen involved in criminal activities have made German shipping companies more reluctant to employ Kiribati seafarers (Bataua 2008a, 2008b, 2008c, 2008d). How this effects the economy remains to be seen.
17 These figures are from 2005 (Kiribati 2005 Census, 37). Corresponding figures from 2000 are not available but in 1995, Catholics comprised 54% and Protestants 38% (Kiribati 1995 Census, xi). So during the ten years the numerical strength of Protestants compared with Catholics has decreased slightly.
churches has been antagonistic; nowadays relations appear polite but distant. Catholics tend to predominate numerically in the northern islands, Kiribati Protestant Church (KPC) in the southern.
Whether Catholic or Protestant, the Christian religion is an important factor in most I- Kiribatis‟ everyday lives. A great deal of social and economic activities centre on the churches, and Christianity has in profound ways become part of the Kiribati culture, even if in certain contexts Christianity and „custom‟ (te katei) are understood as opposites.18 In most contexts, however, Christianity is seen as compatible with, and even part and parcel of, the distinctively Kiribati way of life, the Kiribati custom (te katei).
T
HEK
IRIBATIC
USTOMAs in so many other Pacific countries, or indeed worldwide, there is in Kiribati a consciousness of one‟s own culture and way of life as something distinctive and valuable.
Occasional references to a pagan past or to obstacles to economic development notwithstanding, considerable pride is taken in katei ni Kiribati – Kiribati „custom(s)‟,
„culture‟, „tradition(s)‟ or „way of life (see e.g. Itaia 1979), mentioned in the first ethnographic vignette. The Kiribati word katei consists of two parts, the causative prefix ka- and the word tei, which means „to stand‟; katei could be translated as „to make stand‟. In other words, to behave properly, according to custom, is conceptually to „stand well‟. In addition, in Kiribati „standing‟ also refers to dancing, suggesting the significance of this activity in the culture.19
While in some contexts katei ni Kiribati is perceived as a relatively unproblematic basis of identity and as something shared by all Kiribati people, katei is also the medium to discuss cultural change on the one hand, and the cultural differences between the Gilbert Island islands on the other. Each Gilbert Island is seen to have some of its own customs, and its inhabitants to display certain personality traits, occasionally giving rise
18 These are generally contexts in which the word „custom‟ (katei) is used to refer specifically to pre-Christian spiritual beliefs and practices or other pre-colonial activities which are emphatically condemned nowadays, like traditional warfare.
19 Structurally the word katei resembles parallel concepts in many other Austronesian languages, but the distinction from them is equally interesting. For example, akamaori, fakatonga ja vakaviti referring to Maori, Tongan and Fijian culture or indigenous ways of life respectively, likewise have a causative prefix (aka-, faka-, vaka- cf. ka-) but followed by a word referring to an indigenous person (maori, tonga, viti). In other words, where akamaori makes a person a Maori, fakatonga a Tongan and vakaviti a Fijian, katei makes a person stand. This underlines the importance of the idea of „standing‟ in Kiribati culture.
Another type of related concepts is glossed with some (pidginised) word of English (e.g. kastom, kastam). It is also common to talk about “the way of the land” or something to the effect, perhaps in opposition the (perceived) Western lifestyle (“the way of money”).
to misunderstanding and disapproval but perhaps more often to good-natured (if somewhat provincial) stories and anecdotes. The obverse side is the regionalism with regard to one‟s home island, fostered by regionalist national politics (in which resource allocation is based on island quotas), and also, for example, by inter-island sports competitions, though mitigated by the fact that many people have roots in more than one island.
Katei, like parallel notions elsewhere, consists of both cultural practice and representation (Autio 1999; A-L. Siikala 1997; J. Siikala 1997, 32).20 The concept of katei can be used to represent and discuss Kiribati culture and traditions on many levels and also in politically motivated ways, though I did not often encounter the latter during fieldwork. Instead, I found the concept evoked in a number of everyday contexts, as
„proper manners‟ and „custom‟. In everyday life katei is a set of, to a large extent, conscious and often very concrete rules about moving, bodily comportment, speaking, eating and behaving as a woman/man/relative/guest should. Thus, these explicit and implicit rules ideally prescribe the ways in which people should be the same and different.
Considered in terms of social differentiation and undifferentiation, katei is an instrument for both: working to maintain appropriate difference as well as sameness.
Meetinghouse customs, which are to be discussed extensively in this work, illustrate well both the maintenance of distinction and the imposition of unity. Particularly, perhaps, katei can be seen as a regulatory mechanism preventing unacceptable differentiation.
For example, in most circumstances in Kiribati it is considered inappropriate for an individual to set himself above others or to draw attention to herself; such behaviour is quickly denounced (e kantiroaki; „he/she wants to be looked at‟). On the other hand, custom(s) regulate the differentiation of kin groups.
While I hold that katei can in general be construed as an instrument of (un)differentiation, this appears particularly salient on the Gilbert Island discussed in this work, Tabiteuea. Tabiteuea, besides being popularly understood (like all the Gilbert Islands) to have its own distinctive custom(s), is associated with katei in specific ways (see below).
20 In the 1980s and 1990s in particular, there were extensive discussions about the formation of these kinds of self-conscious representations of culture and the power relations involved in the Pacific context (see e.g. Keesing &
Tonkinson 1982; Feinberg 1994, 1995; Feinberg & Zimmer-Tamakoshi 1995; Jolly & Thomas 1992; Sahlins 1993a, 1993b, Thomas 1992a, 1992b, 1993). The politics of cultural representation in colonial and post-colonial situations were related to the wider discussion about the use of representations of culture and history within the context of older nation states and nationalism, which was sparked off by Benedict Anderson‟s Imagined Communities 1991 [1982] and Eric Hobsbawn‟s and Terence Ranger‟s Invention of Tradition (1983) (for attempts to assess these discussions see Autio 1999; Bababdzan 2000; Inoue 2000). While the Kiribati katei could be approached from this point of view, it would not be particularly relevant with regard to the data I have on katei on the local level.
